Friction
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Based on "A Night In Sickbay". T'Pol wonders if she gave the right answer to the question Jonathan didn't ask.


Friction

By Laura Schiller

Based on _Star Trek: Enterprise_

Copyright: Paramount

(Author's Note: T'Pol mentions having a pet _sehlat _in the Season 4 episode "Awakening".)

T'Pol sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters, staring into the blue-white heart of a candle flame. She was analyzing the emotions of the day, and what she had found was startling at the very least.

_Whatever … friction there is between us, _Captain Archer had said, his hazel eyes crinkling ruefully at the corners, _I'd like to minimize it._

_Friction often occurs between people working in close quarters. _She remembered their "race" on the treadmill, both out of breath, his arms pumping, sweat glistening on his face as they argued about his apology to the Kreetassans.

_Especially when those two people are … of the opposite sex_, he'd said, in an awkward, hushed voice so unlike his usual self.

She'd understood him at once.

_Then it's good that you're my superior officer. We could not allow ourselves to be attracted to each other. If we did, the … friction … between us might become much more problematic._

She'd said "we". It had come out of her mouth without thinking. Why not "you"?

She remembered rubbing his back in the Decon chamber, the slick gel against his warm skin. She didn't need to do that. Ensign Sato might have, once she was done. Contact with Sato had been brisk and efficient, like a mother providing her child with sunscreen lotion on a hot day. T'Pol had tried to touch the Captain the same way, keeping her shields up against touch-telepathy the entire time, but …

It was necessary to feel the emotion before dismissing it. When she did, her blood rushed to her face until it burned.

Would becoming closer to Jonathan Archer really be so problematic?

He'd been a fool last night, there was no denying it, but that was on a broken sleep schedule, negotiating with a truly obnoxious alien species, and halfway out of his mind with worry about his dog. On an ordinary day, he was – though she'd never admit it – one of the finest companions she knew. Certainly more comfortable than Commander Tucker, with his constant criticism. She remembered him joking with her about gremlins in the engines, sharing his blanket with her at P'Jem, working seamlessly with her to fool the Ferengi, and just last night, the look on his face as he watched Porthos sleeping in his tank.

Unbidden, a memory rose up from her early childhood. It must have been before her Kahs'wan and the higher spiritual training that followed, because she had been in tears.

_Don't kill her! _She'd thrown her arms around Shay's furry ruff. Even lying down, the _sehlat_ had been tall enough that T'Pol had to stand to do so.

_Would you prefer her to live in agony? _Her mother's voice had trembled, ever so slightly, as she advanced with the hypospray.

_She will heal!_

_Child, Shay is old, _her father had said._ It is her time. You will understand someday._

He'd had to hold T'Pol back, gently but firmly, while her mother had applied the hypospray. The sehlat had died instantly, quietly, with one small shudder before she closed her amber eyes.

T'Pol did understand, now she was older. But she also understood the Captain's anger at the Kreetassans, down to her very bones.

That was why she had brought him and Dr. Phlox dinner on a tray, as a sign of sympathy. She was a science officer, not a waitress. The least he could have done was not snap at her.

Offended pride. Another item on today's list. She was probably correct in her assessment after all, and loving Captain Archer _would _cause more problems than it solved. Their respective ranks, their different cultures, her engagement to Koss … (she would not, emphatically _not_, think of discordant jazz music and two hands clamped to her face) … She had done the only logical thing possible under the circumstances.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of Shay's warm fur, or the Captain's bare back under her hands, or his awkward smile. Instead she visualized a field of pure white light into which she could let everything go.

_Curious,_ was her last disobedient thought, _How empty serenity can be._


End file.
